Twelve O'Clock Sharp
by Lazarus Saturday
Summary: One year after the Cabal's failed terrorist attack on New York, Kingsman returns to normal. But the world disagrees. In the ensuing cold war, something else rises. Caradoc and Gawain - accompanied by Holly, the new Maleagant and Jonas, the new candidate for Tristan - are thrust back into the world of conspiracies and subterfuge, to face the Cabal and this new force head-on.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"I'll have a sirloin, medium rare, with pepper sauce. And a wine of your choice."

The waiter bowed, and stalked off towards the twin metal doors with their perfectly round windows that allowed vision into the kitchen.

Maleagant turned her head towards the table where a balding, pudgy man was sitting with his much younger, much slimmer wife. He raised the glass of wine to his mouth and took a little sip, before setting it down and standing up.

She glanced one, briefly, at the kitchen doors again, then stood up as well, striding ahead to the door to the bathrooms.

The pudgy man arrived at approximately at the same time as she did, his fat fingers wrapping around the handle of the men's toilet.

Maleagant raised her left wrist, and spun one of the dials on the side. A small dart flew out of the other end, implanting itself into the bulging flesh of the man's neck. She put a hand on the man's back, and pushed him through the men's bathroom door, where he slumped limply to the floor.

The man washing his hands stared at her and frowned.

She fired another amnesia dart from her watch, hitting him in a similar position as the fat man, and he collapsed over the running faucet.

Maleagant bent over the fat man's body, and pulled the pen from inside her jacket, unscrewing it in half and opening a small lid within the tip half. With one hand, she held the man's mouth open, and allowed a few drops of a clear liquid to fall into his gaping, stenchful maw. Grimacing, she tipped his chin upwards so that the liquid slid down his throat, and screwed the pen back together.

She was at the door, about to exit, when a reflex kicked in, and she went back to both the fat man and the witness, pulling out the twin darts embedded in their necks.

The trip back to her table was uneventful, and the steak was waiting for her on a clean, round white plate. She sat down, placed the napkin on her lap and picked up her utensils. Although the steak tasted as it should and wasn't chewy at all, she didn't enjoy it, and her eyes were locked onto the fat man's wife, who was repeatedly looking over her shoulder at the bathroom doors.

In five minutes, the entire streak was gone, and she down the entire glass of red wine that had been set on the table. She wiped her mouth with the napkin, and waved to a waiter, slipping him her fee and tip in cash, before standing up and heading straight for the door.

"Miss!"

Maleagant went rigid, and slowly turned around.

A well-dressed man with greying hair was holding her mobile phone. "I believe this is yours."

She cracked a smile and peeled it from his hand. "Thank you. I wouldn't know what to do without it."

He bowed and turned, heading back to his seat.

Amsterdam was cold as ever, and the breeze that blew past the front of the shop made the hairs on her arms and her back stand up. Ahead of her, a limousine was parked, the chauffeur holding the door open for her.

She slipped into the back seat, right next to Jonas.

"Another achievement by you?" he asked, nudging her with his shoulder.

"He should wake up in a moment," she said, looking out through the tinted windows as their driver took off.

"And where to next?"

"That was the last one. Tonight anyway." She bent down and twisted the stiletto heels off both her feet. "Gosh, hate these things…"

"Why isn't Val the one doing this?"

"Because she's on a date with Dirk. Did you bring the sneakers?"

Jonas picked up the pair of red-and-white shoes from under his seat and handed it to her. "You'll look silly in these and that."

"That's why I told you to bring the clothes. And that's implying I don't look silly in a dress anyway."

"Honestly, Holly? You look absolutely beautiful in that dress."

She chuckled as he slipped both feet inside their respective shoes and tied the laces. "I told you I'm not into guys."

"Well, have you tried?" Jonas smirked.

"I had a boyfriend in high school. He was just...bleh."

"We're not all like that, you know. As in, who doesn't like a rugged ex-soldier with years of combat experience?"

"Self praise is no praise." She turned her back to him. "A little help with the zip?"

"What's the magic word?"

"How old are you?"

Laughing, Jonas pulled the lip on the back of her black dress down, relieving the pressure it exerted on her back. "The last time Dirk asked _you_ that, you punched him."

"That's different. Give me the clothes and turn around. If I catch you peeking, I'll punch you as well."

"Alright, _punchy girl_." Jonas reached over to the seats behind them and passed her a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

She frowned and hit him lightly on the shoulder. Maleagant pulled the dress down her body and slipped it off via her legs, quickly grabbing the t-shirt and putting it over her head. Once her arms were through, she pulled on the jeans and buttoned them up.

"Done?"

"You can turn around now." She tossed the dress behind her, over to the other seats.

Jonas turned to her once again. "Actually, I think I like you better like this."

"I'm not into guys."

"Don't have to say it twice." Jonas looked over his shoulder and out the rear window. "Busy night, eh?"

"It's busy for me every night. You still competing?"

"For the position? Yeah, but the other guy isn't a sniper with an inhumanly fast reaction time, so I think I'll get it."

"I was surprised, actually, when she chose you. You _did_ almost kill her with your 'inhumanly fast reaction time'."

"The past is the past. Speaking of that, though, she's talking me to the tailor's tomorrow to get my suit fitted. Do you think I should get a black one or a cream one?"

"Black is good. Standard. Unless you wanna stand out."

"Yeah, I saw Lancelot - the old one, not Roxy - wearing a light-coloured suit in one of his pictures. And looked what happened to him."

"That was all Gazelle," she said. "You can't blame the suit for not being able to resist tearing by a diamond-edged blade."

Jonas said nothing, looking over his shoulder.

"Get a black suit. It'll make us look more like a team."

"That guy turned six corners with us."

Holly turned as well, to look through the darkened rear window, straight into the headlights of a car whose make she couldn't identify in the glare. "We're being tailed?"

"Looks like it." Jonas pulled his TT-30 out. "Should I give him a reason not to?"

She pushed his gun down. "We're in a metropolitan area."

"I was kidding."

"Don't kid now. This is serious." Maleagant tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Turn us into the first alley you see."

"Yes, ma'am."

The limousine made a sudden turned into a narrow space between two buildings, almost scraping the corner with its long profile, and stopped halfway in. Their headlights switched off.

Maleagant opened the door on her side, being careful not to make contact with the alley wall, and stepped out, her pistol behind her back.

The Porsche turned into the alley with them, stopping just a metre short of the back of the limousine. The driver's door opened, and a woman with auburn hair, wearing a biker's jacket stepped out, her arms raised above her head. "You got me."

"You look familiar," Holly said. "Have we met?"

"No," the woman said, giving her a thoughtful look. "But I think you've seen at least one photo of me. Oh, and, good job with Senator Harrison, by the way."

"Who the hell are you?"

"That's easy. I'm Diana Vex, and I surrender."

* * *

Marcel sat on the soft, luxury mattress inside his spartan, yet comfortable room, staring at the television screen on the wall opposite him. There was a news report on, cursoring a failed terrorist attack in Arkansas.

With a frown, he pressed a button on the remote, changing the channel to an old James Bond movie. He laid back on his pillow, his head turned to the side to watch _The Man with the Golden Gun_.

Three quick raps on the heavy metal door to his cell later, and the television switched itself off. The door swung open slowly, and in stepped a blonde woman in a business suit and heels.

Marcel tossed the remote onto his bunk. "And I thought this morning I requested to not be disturbed."

"There's someone here to see you."

"I don't wanna see them. James Bond was on."

"I'm afraid this is non-negotiable." She turned to the door. "Send him in."

"Thank you, Miss Valix," Michael Bishop said, taking a step into the room. He glanced at the TV screen and the luxury bed and then at Marcel. "I'm going to need some privacy, which means you turn off all the recording devices."

"Oh, of course," she said. The door closed behind her just as she exited, and they were alone.

"Do I know you?" Marcel asked.

"No, but I know you. Or more specifically, my friend knows you. And he wants you out of this place."

"To work for him?"

"No, actually."

"...are you with Kingsman?"

"Don't be so negative. Of course I'm not with Kingsman. I'm with a larger group."

"Did Diana send you?"

"I'm not Cabal, either, if you're wondering."

"Just tell me what you want."

Bishop sat down on the bed next to Marcel, who inched away. "I want you to join the group I mentioned."

"Fuck off."

"Even if one of the perks is having your criminal records wiped and free access to any country you desire?"

Marcel bit his lip. "You do a really good job selling this. And I'd happily buy into it if there wasn't a catch."

"There's always one, isn't there?" Bishop smiled. "We're going to be working against both Kingsman and your old friends."

"Thanks," he said with a grimace. "But no thanks. I'm done with that life."

"You'll have a chance to redeem yourself. Maybe Miss Beckett might even forgive you for what you did to her hand."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the guy who crashed your Eurocopter with a single shot from a sniper rifle."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting until you accept my offer."

Marcel pursed his lips. "Say I go with you. Can you guarantee my safety? Because the Cabal couldn't."

"The Cabal's greatest weakness is its own nature. The world would implode if people knew who was in it. That severely limits their operations. Us? We're a bunch of nobodies. And as nobodies, we can do a hell of a lot more."

"I'm in," Marcel said, standing up. "But promise me one thing."

"Just say it."

"I want to be the one to kill Garth Hendricksen."

"Done." Bishop stood up and extended a hand. "Shake my hand and you're out of here. Trust me."

Slowly, Marcel reached up to grab Bishop's hand in his own, and shook it firmly. "I'm afraid I still don't know you."

"Oh, I'm Michael Bishop. We can talk all about me later."

"Can we leave now?" Marcel retracted his hand. "I'm itching to meet this friend of yours."

"You won't be meeting him. And let's wait a moment before we leave."

"Why?" Marcel sat back down.

"No no no, don't sit down." Bishop pulled him to his feet. "We've still got to wait for the plane to get get here?"

"The plane?"

A deafening _boom_ made Marcel instinctively dive to the ground, holding his head down. The lights flickered and the room shook.

Bishop laughed. " _That_ plane!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Caradoc's phone rang just as he raised the glass of chianti to his lips, and he frowned as he removed it from his pocket and answered the call with a swipe. "Yes?" he asked, holding it to his ear.

"I need you back at the s-"

"I told you, this is a private evening. There aren't any jobs or anything that concerns me, and I told you not to call me."

"This concerns you," Oberon said, his voice hard. "You have to come back to the safehouse with Val, ASAP."

"Moment." He removed the phone from his ear and looked at Gawain, who was sipping her own drink. "Oberon wants us to see something."

She sighed. "Can't it wait?"

"It's important, apparently." He raised the phone to his ear again. "Sorry, can you tell us what exactly is going on?"

"Holly and Jonas just came back with Diana Vex in the trunk of their car. I'd rather have you here when we interrogate her."

Caradoc furrowed his brow. "...that name rings a bell. Refresh my memory, please."

"Fine, just start walking while I do this."

He stood up from his chair, indicating for Gawain to do the same with one hand. "Heading to the car."

"Okay. Remember when the Stockholm team got wiped out?"

"I'd rather not," Caradoc said, recalling the late Tristan's tale of how Geraint had suddenly snapped, slaughtering his entire team and setting the ship on fire. "What's this got to do with tonight?"

"Before I...well, before I got knocked into a coma, I sent you files relating to Geraint's mental conditions. I'm going to just assume you read it."

"I actually read it." He opened the door to his Benz and got into the driver's seat, while Gawain did the same thing to the passenger seat.

"Thing is, Diana Vex was Geraint's substitute psychiatrist, when the actual doctor called in sick."

"No shit?" He stomped on the accelerator.

"No shit."

"Who's working on him right now? Holly or Jonas?"

"Nobody yet. But Holly's very, very tempted to go and beat Diana's face in, so I think you better get here quickly and stop her."

"Yeah...ah, police car, I'll talk to you later." He tapped a button to end the call, and put both hands on the steering wheel."

"What is it?" Gawain piped up from beside him.

"Diana Vex just got caught by Holly and Jonas."

"You're kidding me."

"I like how everyone remembers who she is but me. No, I'm not kidding you, and Oberon wants us to get back before Holly decides to kill her with her bare hands."

"Jayzus, that girl...wait, does she still punch you?"

"No comment." Caradoc made a turn down a quiet neighborhood street. "What about Jonas? His grades good?"

"You should see the other guy."

"...wow, I never even imagined that sentence in a context other than fighting."

"Focus."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." He pulled into the driveway of one of the houses, which looked identical to the others, and turned the key in the ignition, bringing them to silence once more. Caradoc opened the door and stepped back out in the night air.

Slowly, the garage door opened, sliding up into the ceiling. Oberson stood with his tablet clipboard in one hand, absently swiping at the screen. "They're waiting for you downstairs."

"Great, thanks." Gawain put on hand on the garage wall to their left, and a _beep_ was emitted, a part of the floor next to the wall sliding back to reveal stairs leading down.

Caradoc took the steps three at a time, reaching the door at the bottom in no time and swinging it open to Holly and Jonas, who were taking turns throwing darts at each other and catching them. "So which one of you is going in?"

Holly simply pointed to one of the tables in the room, where a man in a lab coat was flicking through a thick sheaf of papers.

"Holy shit," Gawain said. "Doctor Estok!"

He looked up from the papers, blinking. "Good evening, Valerie. And you, Dirk."

Cradoc blinked back at him. "How are you here? We never told you where we were going next."

"I was actually driving and I saw Miss Beckett mowing the lawn, so I offered to do it for her." He tapped the papers on his table. "But I don't think it's the right time to worry about that."

"I didn't know you were familiar with interrogation techniques." Caradoc narrowed his eyes, which followed Estok to the heavy metal door of their holding cell.

"I'm familiar with a lot of things." Estok opened the cell door and slipped inside.

Jonas turned the dial of a speaker on his desk. "I'd be the one doing that if you guy got here just a minute earlier."

"No," Gawain said. "This is too important anyway."

Holly hushed them and turned the dial even further.

"Ms. Vex, isn't it?" Estok was asking.

"I'm very pleasantly surprised," Diana said. "I've never seen you before, even in our files. What's your designation?"

"Oh, I don't have one. I'm not Kingsman."

"Really, Beumers? Letting outsiders do your job for you now? Garth really must have caused some damage last year."

"Why are you in Amsterdam?"

"I don't wanna talk to you anymore. Send in Mr. Beumers please."

"What's the Cabal planning next?"

"I'm not saying anything until you let Dirk talk to me. There's some...very crucial info I've to share with him."

"He's listening."

"I think face-to-face is more polite."

A moment of silence, and then the heavy door opened once again, Estok waving at Caradoc to come in.

He strode past the doctor into the padded white room, to Diana, who was sat in one corner, restrained by her straitjacket. "You better start talking or I'll let Holly in here."

"You don't need to intimidate me." She smiled. "I'm happy to share whatever I know about the Cabal's current operations with you."

"Then why call me in here?"

"I just wanted to see your face again. You can tell a lot by looking at someone's face." She raised an eyebrow. "Did I interrupt you by getting here?"

"What?"

"You're pissed. And not because I refused to talk to your friend over there. Were you in the middle of something?"

"None of your business. What do you want?"

"I've been kicked out of the Cabal." She stared at the ceiling lights. "And I want you to kill all of them for me."

Caradoc took a step back, then a deep breath. "How the hell do we know you're not their mole with a tracking device or some bullshit like that?"

"Your friend scanned me. Just ask him."

"I will. Okay, say you really want us to take down the Cabal. What can you give us that'll be an advantage against them?"

"Ooh." She whistled. "For one, the identities of every single cabinet member, and a few of their underlings. You could take them out one-by-one. Like it's hunting season for you. But…" She grinned. "There's a catch."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I'll give you the names one at a time. You kill the first one, I'll give you a second. It's in order of who I hate most to who I actually like."

"Or you could just give us all of them," Estok suggested.

"And then what? You'd just kill me. Think of it as my life insurance, as you will."

Caradoc shook his head. "I need a moment." He swept out of the room, crashing onto one of the ergonomic chairs.

"We did scan her," Jonas said. "Clean, like she said. The car was also rented under a false credit card, so I don't think anybody knows she's here."

"She's going to stab us in the back. I just know it!"

"Give it a break," Gawain said. "This is probably our only lead in months."

"I agree," Holly said. "If we can take down at least some Cabal members, we'd be able to hurt them like they hurt us."

"What if she gives us the names of innocent people?" Caradoc asked. "Then we'd just be killing whoever she wants us to kill."

"We'll run background check on all of them." Gawain put a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me on this one. If they're not Cabal, we'll know."

"I don't trust her."

Jonas scoffed. "She's wrapped up in a straitjacket and stuffed into the corner of a high-security cell. There's no way she can get out."

Caradoc opened his mouth to speak, but his first words were drowned out by Oberon's loud footsteps down the stairs.

"Something's gone down in Paris," he said, pressing a button on his tablet. The largest screen in the room lit up with news footage of a large, block building that was on fire. "That's La Santé, one of the largest prisons in Paris."

Holly stood up to get a closer look at the video. "You gotta be crazy to attack a place like that. What happened?"

"Someone flew a jet straight into the southern complex."

"A jet?" Caradoc stepped closer to the screen. "Who the hell's crazy enough to do that shit?"

"Gotta be Cabal," Gawain said.

"That's not important right now," Oberon said, pausing the clip. "I think it's a distraction. A really elaborate one." He flicked at the tablet again, bringing up the record of a French ex-Legionnaire registered to the prison. "He's in the north."

"Marcel," Gawain whispered. "It's got to be Cabal."

"I'll ask her." Caradoc stormed back through the door, grabbing one of the tablets, flipping it open and tuning in on Oberon's signal.

Diana stopped humming when she saw him. "Back for more?"

He raised the screen at her, do playing Marcel's file. "A plane just crashed into a prison in Paris. The one he was in. Is it your friends doing this?"

She squinted at the screen, struggling somewhat with the stiff jacket. "He's allergic to seafood? Never knew that."

"For someone who just offered to help, you're fucking useless."

"You haven't accepted my offer yet. And this isn't part of the deal."

"Tell us and we'll help you. Did the Cabal do this?"

Diana sighed. "No, I'm afraid. If we did anything like this it'd just draw attention to ourselves. Oh, sorry, if _they_ did anything like this it'd just draw attention to _them_."

"Then who did?"

"No idea. But if you want my guess, it's probably a third party. Someone you haven't met yet."

Caradoc said nothing.

"Are you going to help me now?"

He grunted. "Fine. We'll help you."

"Then listen very, very carefully." She wiggled and shifted to lean against another wall. "Have you figured out the patrol boat thing?"

"If I remember correctly, it's Singaporean. One of you is a Singaporean naval commander or something?"

"Close. Try the Prime Minister."

Cradoc did a double take. "Are you serious? Who else is there, the President of the United States?"

"He didn't seem like the kind of person who would choose the world over the American people, so we didn't ask him."

"So if we kill him, you'll give us another name?"

"Yes. I'm not without honour, you know. Oh, and it's a she, not a he."

"What's she planning?"

"Nothing. She isn't the one in charge - that'll come later. Now off you pop."

Caradoc turned to Estok. "Get her a pillow or something. You gonna stay up?"

He shrugged. "Whatever helps, I guess."

"Good." He looked back at the bound Diana. "If you're lying and we kill an innocent woman, I'm going to personally strangle you to death, understand?"

To his surprise, she only laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Bishop rapped his knuckles on the door to Marcel's room. "Sirs, there's a little problem in here."

Moment later, it opened, the pair of guards entering with their pistols pointed at Marcel, who laid still on the bed. He stared at the bottom of the mattress above him, ignoring them.

"Sit up." One of the produced a pair of handcuffs.

Marcel swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding his hands out in front of him. "What did I do?"

The guard looked at Bishop, who smiled. "It's not Mr. Fontaine, good sirs. I mean, I wouldn't say it to someone's face like this, but...it's the two of you."

In one swift movement, he twisted the handgun out of the hand of the guard closest to him, discharging it under the guard's own chin, and blowing the other guard against the wall.

Marcel raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not with Kingsman?"

"Do I look like a snob?" He pried the pistol out of the other guard's hand and handed it to Marcel.

He flicked the safety off pulled the slide back. "There's about two hundred guards between the two of us."

"Wrong. One hundred guards."

"What, you killed half of them with that plane?"

"Don't be silly, the other half are on our side." He poked his head out of the doorway. "Clear. Let's go."

Still reeling, Marcel followed him.

* * *

Gawain sat down next to Caradoc at the oblong dinner table that was identical to the old one in their castle, and switched on her glasses. A conference call was pending, and she activated it, green, holographic figures springing up in each of the chairs but her own and Caradoc's.

Roland, at the table, adjusted her spectacles. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm sure you've all heard what happened just an hour ago. I'm assuming control because Arthur's called in sick and I've other work to do, so make it quick."

If you're referring to the incident at the prison, then yes," Galahad said. "But that's really not why we're here, are we?"

"No, it's not," Gawain said. "We just managed to capture an important member of the Cabal."

Lancelot sat straight up in her chair. "I'm going to assume you stuck to protocols and screened her. Has she said anything?"

"Only that the Cabal aren't responsible for what happened at La Santé. She thinks it's a third party."

"Any you believe her?" Agravain asked from his seat next to Roland. "She could have tracking gel on her."

"We tested for that, and it's negative. Her car was also rented locally, under a false name and witch cash, so no-one is following her."

"What about visually?"

"Neither Maleagant or Tristan reported any signs of surveillance," Caradoc said. "It's highly unlikely she was being followed."

"You said she thinks it was a third party," Roland said. "She co-operated with you during questioning?"

"I was about to get to that," Gawain said. "Miss Vex has...offered a list of names comprising of Cabal members which she wants us to eliminate. It should appear she has no love for them, even the ones she's deemed to be good to her."

Agravain shook his head. "You're going to trust a woman who was responsible for the death of our entire Stockholm team? This isn't even accounting for your late boss, Gawain. And Charlemagne."

"She's the only lead we have," Caradoc piped up.

"And she's a terrible one at that." Agravain scratched his chin. "There are just too many opportunities for her to strike at us."

"Currently," Gawain said. "She's in a straightjacket in a soundproof, lead-lined room. There's no way she can contact anybody outside."

"Gawain is right," Galahad said. "If we want to get back at the Cabal, this is it. An eye for an eye."

"And what if...I don't know what she's planning, but what if she succeeds?"

"Then we find out what it is and deal with it before it happens," Lancelot said. "I agree with Eg- with Galahad. This is out once chance at hurting the Cabal - we'd be stupid not to take it."

"You know what's even more stupid? Walking right into what is obviously a trap."

"Do it," Roland said.

"Madam-"

"Your opinion is duly noted, Agravain. Caradoc, Gawain, do what you can to glean the appropriate information from Miss Vex." She narrowed her eyes. "But I get the feeling you already have."

"We have," Gawain confirmed. "And she has given us our first assassination target. The Prime Minister of Singapore."

"Crikey," said Galahad. "She wants us to kill the bloody Prime Minister?"

"If we don't, she'll refuse to reveal the others, and we'll be back at square one. Maybe we can fake her death."

"Perhaps I should send Pellinore over there," Roland said.

"I think it's better if she co-operates with us," Caradoc countered. "That way she's less likely to throw us off."

Agravain rolled his eyes. "Maybe she already has."

"We'll know by tomorrow," Gawain said. "Oberon and Maleagant are doing a background check on her - result should come by morning."

"And in the meanwhile?" Galahad asked.

"We'll keep talking to her, see what we can get," Caradoc said. "Maybe she'll slip up at some point."

"That's that," Roland said. "Anything else, everyone?"

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"David Estok arrived at the safehouse today."

"The man without any records?" Lancelot asked. "You let him into your safehouse?"

"Not me, Maleagant did. She thought it would be a good way to keep him with us, so we can investigate him."

"Just arrest him," Agravain moaned.

"He hasn't done anything wrong, so we can't."

Roland nodded. "Find out what you can and get back to me. But right now, Miss Vex is your priority. Everyone is dismissed." She took off her glasses.

Gawain pulled her own spectacles off, folding the legs and sliding it into her lapel pocket, next to her pocket square. "I was kind of hoping that was over."

"So was I." Caradoc slumped back in the chair.

"I'm going to go and ask Oberon and Holly about the PM. You can take Diana now if you like."

His finger wrapped around her wrist just as she stood up. "I was thinking about what happened last year."

"And?"

He stared into her eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

"And you're not going to. Antoine is dead."

"He can't be the only one, can he? We've this before. One of us might still be a mole and we don't even know it."

"That's what you need to be careful of. Diana managed to turn Geraint against us. She can probably do the same to you."

"That's because Geraint was a willing participant in his sessions. I'm not willing."

"Just be careful. I don't want to lose you either."

He smiled. "If only Uther could hear us now."

"He'd decommission you right away, you know. Putting me before the primary objective." She returned the grin. "I love you."

"I love you too." He glanced at his watch. "Come on, we've still like, nine hours before sunrise, and I don't think I can talk to Diana for nine hours. A movie or two?"

"Holly can probably pirate something. But I was thinking we could go back out and...finish what we started."

"Grand idea. That first or last?"

"First, or all the shops will be closed."

"But then you'll have to come back to Diana and it'll be horrible." She stood up. "We don't need to go to any shops or cafes, just the pier."

"You make a good argument," he said, getting to his feet and pulling the door open. "Ladies first?"

* * *

Amidst the chaos of the guards firing at each other, Marcel crept slowly around the corner of the prison block after Bishop. He clutched the empty pistol in his hand, as if there was any comfort in the action.

In the darkness in front of him, he saw the gate. "Is it locked?" he asked, but knew full well Bishop already had an answer.

"It is, but that's about to be fixed. How good are your reflexes?"

"Uh...very? I'm an ex-soldier."

"So am I. And good, because you're going to have to use them."

"Maybe you should have told me in my room before you told the pilot to crash into the entire south side."

"Nah." Bishop's hand went to his glowing earpiece, and Marcel heard the ghost of a conversation, drowned out by the rapid automatic fire in the background. "What would be the fun?"

"You are _completely_ out of your mind."

"Who isn't? Oh, get ready."

"For what?"

His question was instantly assigned an answer when a the rhythmic drum of a helicopter's rotors was suddenly over their heads, and a sleek black shape cut through the equally dark sky.

"The moment they drop the ladder, you jump and grab it as far up as possible, understand?"

Marcel nodded.

"Start running when I do, or you'll miss it." Marcel looked around the corner. "Okay, clear enough, ready?"

"Clear enough? What d- hey!"

Bishop exploded out of cover, pumping his legs in a the fastest sprint Marcel had seen in his life, ex-soldier or not.

Marcel, recalling his words, did the same, tearing across the yard, leaping over the dead bodies that littered the ground and towards the rope ladder that hung from the descending helicopter.

Bishop was off the ground, hanging from a rung of the ladder by one hand.

Marcel took a running leap off one of the bodies, reaching out and taking Bishop's hand in his own. His other hand secured itself around another, lower rung, and he was lifted into the starry sky. Below, the prison grew smaller.

"Well done!" Bishop shouted over the roar of the rotors.

"I need to know: who are you?"

"What? Speak up!"

"Who are you people?!"

Bishop smiled at that. "We're MI6!"

* * *

"It's hopeless," Caradoc said. "She's clammed up. As in, put herself into some sort of meditative trance."

"You can do that?"

"She's doing it right now. We'll just wait, I guess. Let's go."

Jonas poked his head around a corner. "Wait, you guys going out? You mind if I do too?"

"Ask Oberon," Gawain said. "If he and Holly want to go out as well then you have a problem. We need someone to watch her." She pointed at the cell door with her chin.

"Actually," Holly said, poking her head out next to Jonas. "I'm going out too. There's a...thing I wanna do."

"I can stay," Oberon said from his seat in front of the main terminal. "Already took the anti-sleep drugs."

"Me too," Estok added.

Caradoc put his hand against the wall. The plates blocking the staircase from above slid away to reveal the dark garage. "Fair enough."

They filed up the steps in a row, and Gawain flicked the light switch as she passed, illuminating the empty room.

Or at least, she expected it to be empty.

An Arab man, whose pinstripe suit was torn and dirty, looked up at them with pleading, bloodshot eyes. "You have to help me," he croaked and reached up with one hand.

Gawain took the hand in her own, her eyes sweeping over the Kingsman signet ring. "What's your codename?"

"S-S-Saladin."

"Middle Eastern team? What the hell happened?"

His eyes were suddenly filled with fear. "They killed us all."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Maleagant sighed, her breath creating a fine mist in front of her face. "I can't believe she let us out."

"What are you going to do?" Jonas asked. "We've done everything on that list. Harrison and Williams and the others are seeded. There's nothing else to do."

"Let's go see Klaas," she said, and began striding along the sidewalk in the dark, towards the rusting and bent gates of the cemetery.

Jonas matched her pace. "There's not going to be anything else. Not until tomorrow. When are you going to tell them?"

She said nothing, walking through the gates and onto the winding cobblestone path that parted the pale grass.

The Hekkers family crypt was situated at the far end of the graveyard, between two dead trees whose twisted branches reached out in the darkness, as if to grasp any traveller that dared venture near. The crypt itself was made of a grey stone, bleak and low against the ground, the statue of a crying angel hanging over it.

A small piece of paper was stuck on the heavy doors.

Jonas peeled it off and produced his phone, turning on the screen and pointing it at the note. "One more: Senator Jackson."

"That's not right," Maleagant said, taking the note from him. "This isn't supposed to come until Monday."

"Someone's in a hurry." Jonas switched on his phone's brilliant flashlight beam, and swept it around, illuminating the headstones and the empty spaces between here. "Let's get out of here."

Maleagant glanced at her watch. "It's only ten. He usually delivers after midnight, doesn't he?"

"Don't ask me. He might have put this here yesterday, for all we know. We didn't check then, did we?"

"I did."

"You're getting paranoid. Even then, he might have put it here this morning. This is why I told you to set up cameras."

She shook her head. "No, he'd know."

"You're just being paranoid. Tell Dirk or Val, and show them the first letter. They'll understand. I promise you, Holly."

"We don't know if-"

"For goodness' sake, we can tell them. He has no way of knowing, and they'll agree with our current plan."

"Then where did the second letter come from?"

Jonas paused.

"Tell me."

He was staring at the space between the headstones. "He's around here. I just saw someone duck behind that statue."

"What?"

"He's watching us." Jonas' hand went into his pistol in its shoulder strap. "Cover me." He started towards the rows of graves, gun raised.

Maleagant kept her own sidearm pointed through the trees.

A high-pitched sound began, raising itself in frequency until she could no longer hear it. A shudder washed over her, and her hand twitched. The barrel of her TT-30 swung to the left, to where Jonas.

Without even thinking, she pulled the trigger.

* * *

The next thing Marcel knew, a bag had been placed over his head, and a thick rope was wrapped around his neck. The night air met him again, striking the entirety of his body as he was tossed out of the helicopter.

In seconds, he had stopped moving.

Bishop pulled at the rope, dragging the body back into the helicopter and dumping it across from him. "One down," he said, "How'd I do?"

"Very good," the man on the other side said. "You know who's next, right?"

"I've memorised the list."

"Get her. We can't afford any loose ends."

"Tomorrow. I can't get to her today, but I know where she goes in the morning. Then we'll get her."

"Good." The connection cut itself.

* * *

"Oh my god…" Maleagant scrambled over to Jonas' prone body. He was clutching at the small red hole in his chest, using his grey blazer to stop the blood flow. "I'm sorry…"

"Did you get him?"

She opened her mouth and closed it, glancing back at the crypt doors. "No, I couldn't see him. Too dark. But he didn't shoot you."

"Then who did?"

"...I did."

"The fuck, Holly?" His brow was scrunched up. "This isn't time for training! We've almost got him!"

"No, I didn't mean to shoot you."

"Then why did you?!"

"I just...felt like I need to. I wanted to kill you," she realised, and fell back onto the grass. "I wanted to kill you."

Jonas crawled to his knees. "We have to go back. Dirk and Val can't find us here."

"You're right...but I don't want to shoot you again!"

"No choice, carry me back." He lifted an arm.

Maleagant slipped under his shoulder, standing up and hefting him with her. "Damn, you're heavy."

Jonas' gun pressed against her chest. "Don't worry, I'm not going to pull the trigger if you don't try to kill me."

She nodded, and made her way back onto the sidewalk and across the street to one of the parked cars. Her elbow easily smashed through the driver's window, and she flicked the locks off.

Jonas was laid across the backseat, her gun still pointing at Holly as she took the wheel in her hands. "Call Dirk and Val and tell them I'm injured. Don't say you did it, or they'll freak out. Drive."

Maleagant put her foot on the accelerator, steering with one hand, while the other went to the buttons on her spectacles. "Dirk, Jonas got shot."

"What? Who?"

"I don't know. We're heading back there right now."

"I'll get Doctor Estok ready for surgery. Did you at least get a glimpse at who fired?"

"I did," she said, glancing at herself in the rearview mirror. "I'm going to step on it - see you later!" She cut the connection.

"I've a theory," Jonas said.

"Yeah?" She screeched around the corner, the back end of their car almost smacking a convertible.

"Same thing as V-day. Increases aggression and switches off inhibitions, right? Sounds exactly like what you described."

"Can you put the gun down now?"

"It might not be that. Where's the note?"

Maleagant tossed the piece of scrunched-up paper at him. "Don't let them see that."

"They deserve to know."

"Not yet," she whispered. "When we find out who put it there, then I'll tell them."

Jonas said nothing.

She tore down the stretch, jerk in to a stop just in front of their house. The door opened with single flick, to Caradoc and Estok waiting in front of the raised garage shutter.

Maleagant dropped to her knees on the grass in front of them, tossing her pistol away. "I lied."

Caradoc raised an eyebrow.

"I was the one who shot him."

* * *

"Sir."

Tahal tore his gaze away from the Mona Lisa replica on his bedroom wall, and looked at the guard who poked his head in through the doorway.

"The prison Marcel was in was attacked two hours ago."

"Is he dead?"

"Yes, sir. Our team found the body floating in the river. We secured it before the police could."

"Cause of death?"

"Broken neck, sir. From the marks, he was hanged and then dropped into the water."

"Kingsman?"

"Doesn't match their M.O., sir. And they have no reason to wait a year before killing him. The Council's invited you to sit with them."

"I'm going. You think it's plausible that he had some crucial information and his kidnapper extracted it from him?"

"Very likely, sir."

"It's not the others?"

"The taps you installed suggest nothing. This was done by an outsider, not someone in the Council."

He pursed his lips. "And Diana. Found her yet?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. It's likely she's using a fake ID. One we don't know about."

Tahal turned back to the painting. "Report any updates to me."

"Understood, sir." The man backed out of his room, quietly shutting the door.

Tahal clenched his fists.

* * *

Maleagant found herself in a white padded cell, identical to the one they had put Diana in. The only difference was she didn't have a straitjacket on, but her blazer, shoes, watch and other equipment were missing.

The back of her neck burned. Well, not the entire back of her neck, just a little area to the right. She raised her fingers, and traced the line of a scar down a short distance.

With a hiss, the door to her cell unsealed, and Gawain stepped in, pistol in hand. It was pointed down at the ground. "Feeling better?"

"What's this?" She scratched lightly at the scar.

"Jonas told me you said you felt a sudden need to kill him. Like the influence of Valentine's signal. So we put a chip in you to counteract any further effects."

"Wait, you didn't protect from Valentine's signal before? That's just shitty planning, isn't it?"

"We _did_ ward against it. We took over and reconfigured his satellites to broadcast a counter-signal instead."

"Except it worked again today."

"Exactly. Oberon is working on that."

"Where'd you get the chips so quickly?"

"Remember Antoine? We cut it out and Oberon replicated it for you. There are two theories right now: either they've modified the signal, or short-range isn't preventable with our satellites. Whatever the cause, it's a good thing to have that."

"It...it won't explode, won't it?"

"Oberon removed that component."

Maleagant sighed. "I'm guessing I'm staying in here until you guys do this or that or whatever."

"We'll let you out after Arthur says so," Gawain said. "Don't worry, Holly, you didn't do anything wrong." She turned to leave.

"Wait."

Gawain spun back to face her.

"What if it isn't Valentine's signal? What if...I don't know, but if I'm really going crazy or something then maybe you should just kill me."

"You're not crazy, Holly. But if you're a sleeper or something, in a way that you don't even realise it, then...I'll be happy to do the honours."

She said nothing.

Gawain pulled the door closed, but a hand shot out and grabbed it edge.

Jonas stepped into the room, a bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. "Give me a moment, will you?"

Gawain nodded, and slipped outside.

Maleagant watched as the door was closed and re-sealed, and Jonas walked behind her. "I didn't tell them."

"I know."

"This is going to get us killed. First we trust Diana, and now we're going to keep tagging people."

"Hey, you agreed to work with Diana."

"Only because it seemed like a good idea at the time. And now we've just found out that the signal that can make us kill each other still works."

"We don't know that."

He shook his head. "Whatever...I forgive you. You weren't yourself when you shot me. I'll give you a week, then I'll tell them about the letter."

"I might be stuck here for a week."

"That's all I'm giving you. Find out what how that letter got there, and if it's safe, we can tell them together."

Maleagant nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Caradoc tossed his glasses onto the table, sighing heavily. "Everything is going to to shit." He rubbed his eyes.

"Saladin is still asleep," Estok said. "Who is he?"

"One of our guys. He runs the entire Middle Eastern board. Roland just pinged all the other teams a minute ago, and she'll send someone to check if they don't reply."

"And in the meantime?"

"I think we can only wait. But if Saladin isn't lying or delusional and every team is really dead, then...I don't know. It's up to Roland."

"It also might mean our attacker is based in the Middle East."

"Possibly Cabal, too. But we can't confirm that, because Diana wants us to kill the Prime Minister of Singapore first. And even then she might not say the name of the guy we're looking for."

"You think it's the third party?"

"Could be. We don't even know if they're real or not. Prison attack might just be another Cabal plot, too."

"Nothing's ever simple."

"And I'm getting sick of it. You think we should kill the PM?"

"I don't know a lot about your organisation, but you can probably get away with assassinating the PM. So why not do it?"

"If Diana wants them dead, it might be because they know something."

"Then interrogate her before killing her."

"That's up to the team in Singapore. If anybody's going to kill her, it's them. And they might not decide to."

"Can't Arthur enforce it?"

"We don't work like that. Kingsman is split into four sectors: North America and Europe, Middle East, Africa and Asia. We work independently, and the leaders have a meeting every once in a while. Not the best system, but it works."

"Can the Singaporean team confirm that the PM sent the patrol boat?"

Cradoc grabbed his glasses and folded the legs, slipping it into his pocket. "We investigated that last year, after the thing on the ship. The admirals knew the orders came from above, but they wouldn't divulge."

"That narrows it down a lot, if the order didn't come from the navy itself. Face it, it's probably the PM."

"And if we're wrong?"

"We're not wrong," Oberon said. He walked up to their table and lid his clipboard towards Caradoc, the PM's dossier on the screen. "Look at the parts I circled."

Cardoc's finger traced the red line that went around certain blocks of text, most notably the six- and seven-digit figures near the bottom.

"She _could_ just be a nice person," Estok said. "I mean, even Bill Gates donated that much. More than that, actually."

"But this is to the exact same charity every time," Oberon said. "That much money is better off developing the country."

"That's kinda mean," Caradoc said, swiping two fingers apart on the screen to zoom in to the charity's name. "But I get you. A charity can't put that much money to use."

"Singapore probably knows by now, but I'll send this over anyway. Dirk, can I talk to you for a moment? In private, I mean."

"Sure." Caradoc stood up and looked at Estok. "Get some rest if you want, doc. It's gonna be a long night."

"I'm not tired," Estok said.

Caradoc nodded and went over to Oberon's terminal, sitting down in the chair beside his. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

"I checked David's profile again, just to be sure nothing's changed." He tapped a button, prompting a document with Estok's face and name and details to appear on the screen. "But I found this."

"Fucking hell." Caradoc's eyes swept over the lines of text. "The details match pretty much everything he said last year."

"The working theory is that he went and got whoever it is he's working for to slip this into the British national database."

"You think he's Cabal now?"

"Could be. He could have been from the start. We never really thought that."

"And Marcel's people found us the night we brought him in. Why didn't we think of this back then?" He glanced at Estok, who reading something on his phone.

"You're getting ahead of yourself. He's had several chances to kill us, and he hasn't taken any of them. You'd think the Cabal would want to remove us as quickly as possible."

"I don't know what to think anymore. You seen Val?"

"She went to talk to Holly. I just finished installing her chip a few minutes ago. Does yours still hurt?"

"I've been ignoring it. Any developments on the signal?"

"I was trying to trace the source. Remember when we were cleaning up Valentine's base in the Himalayas?"

"You think someone stole an emitter from that?"

"We didn't know how many there were in total. You found two, but there could easily have been a third one."

"Everyone we found there was headless."

"Thanks to Galahad and Merlin, yes. But a Cabal agent could have easily hidden himself and stolen it while we were en route."

Caradoc nodded. "Whatever the case, we gotta find a way to counter the signal. Agravain called yet?"

"He's still working on it. Gonna be a bit slower, with the new recruits running the department and all that."

"Can you trace that file? Doctor's Estok, I mean. Hack in and find out who put the file there, and we've got a lead there."

"You want me to hack in to the British government?"

"It's not like you haven't done that before, right?"

"Only during emergencies. As in, when they're hiding something from us and we've no choice but to hack them."

"So you're going to ask them nicely?"

"Then if that doesn't work, get our friends inside to give us the information.' Hacking is usually a last resort, thank you very much. And it isn't that easy - the database is very heavily protected."

Caradoc whistled. "And you're teaching Holly this stuff? Is that why she always looks stressed out?"

Oberon raised an eyebrow. "Stressed out? No, hacking is hard, but it's not going to make you want to claw your eyes out. Probably something else, and knowing Holly, it's better to not ask. Does she sti-"

"Punch me? No comment." He looked over at Estok, who was typing into his phone. "And tap his phone too, in case he calls someone about us."

"I've a filter to block it in place."

"Good." Caradoc's watch beeped, signifying an incoming connection. He frowned, opening the connection via a tap to the button on his glasses.

"Hello, agent Caradoc," a low voice said.

He froze, and glanced at the caller ID on his watch.

"It's terribly rude to not reply, agent."

"Give me a moment," Caradoc said, turning to Oberon. "Is the dining room clear? I need to talk to someone."

"Nobody's in there."

"Thank you." He activated the staircase with the palm of his hand, and took the stairs up to the garage. He went through the door connecting them to the house, and into the dining room with its long table where Kingsman agents usually sat.

A lone hologram was at the head of the table, where Roland had been earlier. "Take a seat, Caradoc."

He pulled out the chair at the other end, looking at the hologram of the young man in a suit at the other end. "I thought we were done."

"Apparently not."

"What do you want?"

"How rude!" The young man shook his head. "You department's not getting any extra funding, that's for sure."

"We don't need it. You said I was free to go."

"Which doesn't mean I'm going to stop monitoring you. That being said, how are you and agent Gawain?"

"We're fine."

"I didn't mean your wellbeing. I was getting curious about how you two were getting along together, so I decided to have Roland do me a favor."

"You're wasting my time."

"She left the conference link on, Caradoc. And I don't like what you and Gawain said afterwards."

Under the table, Caradoc's fists clenched. "So you're spying on me - on us, now, are you?"

"It's what I do. You know what my job is."

"Some privacy would be excellent, Uther."

The young man smiled. "As an internal auditor, I need eyes and ears everywhere. If you're not guilty, you've got nothing to hide."

"Can't you just leave us alone?"

"We had an agreement, Caradoc, and you broke it. But I'm giving you one more chance to stop."

Caradoc said nothing.

"If I get a whiff - and you know how easily I can do that - of anything going on between you and Gawain, I'm going to order a trial for you."

"That won't be necessary."

Uther's smile got wider. "Very well, agent. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a little nap. It's getting dark here." The hologram of the young man flickered, and disappeared completely, severing the link.

Caradoc furrowed his brow. "It's rude to eavesdrop, you know."

Jonas stepped out of the door to the kitchen, his arms crossed. "Don't worry, I stayed out of the field range." He pointed with his chin to the ceiling, where each seat had a small projector directly above it.

"The last time I talked to someone, turns out Uther was still listening. How do you know he's not listening to you right now?"

"Because I'm not guilty, and I've nothing to hide." He smiled. "Conference calls are made locally."

"You been taking tech classes with Oberon too?"

"No, I just found out a second ago, because I started seeing Uther when I walked in. Then it was all deduction." His smile disappeared. "You really can't let her go, can you Dirk?"

"I can if I want."

"But you don't want to."

"I'm not like you."

"I understand the importance of saving the world, Dirk. Karlien understands that, and she's happy to accept that we're not together anymore."

"How can you do that? Even Sagramore wouldn't put the world before his wife, and he's the most loyal agent I've ever known. You're lying."

Jonas sighed. "It doesn't matter. I might still love her, but what then? I'm not putting her in danger and I'm not choosing her over the world. That's what you should do."

"Kind of hard, since she's an agent."

"But you'd save her without a second thought. To Uther, that's a gaping flaw, and you're not even going to do what he says, are you?"

"I don't like following orders."

"Makes me wonder how you got the job in the first place. But enough of that. How's it going with our good doctor?"

"He got someone to make a file for him. Oberon is going to ask our friends in the British government to find out who put it there."

"They guys creeps me out, man. First he pops up in a hospital right where we were, and then he says Val looks like his wife."

"If he has a wife."

"He looks like he does. I talked to Holly a few minutes ago."

"And?"

"I haven't told you what happened in the graveyard. Before Holly shot me, there was someone."

"What were you doing in the graveyard?"

"Visiting Klaas. But then we heard someone there with us. I went to look for him, and before I knew it, Holly blew a hole through my chest."

"And you weren't affected?"

"No. Looks like it was an extremely short-ranged device, if it's a signal. You gonna go look for him?"

"No, I've another mission on my mind," Caradoc said, standing up. "Maybe if they took Marcel, they'll take him too."

Jonas gave him a thoughtful look. "...Harker?"

"Exactly."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Saladin." Gawain sat on the side of his bed, shaking his shoulders. "It's time to wake up, Saladin. We need you."

He moaned as she shook him, muttering something in Arabic. His hands clutched the sheets, scrunching them up and holding them close to his chest.

"Please."

His eyes fluttered open, sweat forming on his forehead. He breathed heavily for a few moments, before his eyes focused on Gawain and the tensed muscles in his shoulders relaxed. "W-where am I?"

"You're in Amsterdam, with Kingsman. You're safe, Saladin, but right now we need to know what happened."

"They killed each other."

Gawain paused, glancing over to Oberon at the door, then back at Saladin. "Killed each other? As in they started shooting each other?"

"It was like V-day."

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. "How did you escape?"

"I just ran. I don't know why the signal didn't affect me, but I didn't really care. I left them to die."

"It was the smart thing to do." She stood up. "We tried to contact the other teams. No reply at all."

"That's because they're all dead." Saladin was staring at his feet. "I'm going to guess you know who they are."

"Cabal," Gawain said. "Same group we foiled last year. A few hours ago we even captured one of them."

His eyes widened. "Can I see her?"

"She won't talk to anyone about anything until we've killed the Prime Minister of Singapore. Apparently she's Cabal, too, and our guest is going to rattle off their names one-by-one, because revenge."

"You trust her?"

"Hell no. Singapore are still debating whether to kill the PM or not. But I think Oberon's given them a reason to."

He stepped up. "She donates a massive amount of funds to a charity every year. More than they can use. She's funding them."

"Then take her out already."

"That's Singapore's call."

Saladin nodded. "They'll do it. I know their leader. I want to try talk to your prisoner, see if I can get anything out of her."

"Pellinore's coming here tomorrow. I think you should get some rest instead." Her watch beeped, a message from Caradoc popping up on the screen. "Sorry, I have to go." She walked past Oberon and out of the room, to where Caradoc was.

"Let's go see Harker," Caradoc said.

"He's harmless where he is."

"So was Marcel, and then he disappears right after the attack. One thing I don't understand is why they didn't go for Harker first. He's a supplier, Marcel's a footsoldier. I'd think Harker is more useful."

"Maybe they need more troops."

"Harker can get them troops as well. You remember his guys, right? They're not as good as Marcel's ex-Legionnaires but they get the job done."

"To be honest, I don't know what to think anymore. And Saladin…" She glanced back at the open bedroom door. "Saladin said that his team killed each other. Same for the rest of the middle Eastern board. It's got to be the signal."

"Then it's a good thing we all got chips."

"Where's Harker being held again?"

"Bijlmerbajes. The one near Amstel station. You wanna leave now or do you want to talk to Jonas first?"

"Yeah, good idea. I missed him earlier when he was talking to Holly. Seen him?"

"Upstairs. He just got out of bed."

"I'll go see him. Get the car ready - this won't be long." She took the stairs two at a time out of the basement, and into the darkened living room. She swiftly climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor of their home, and knocked on the last door in the right side of the corridor. "Jonas!"

It opened a crack, Jonas' eye appearing. "Yeah?"

"We're going to see Harker. Wanna come?"

He made a face. "Ugh, no. I told you I don't ever want to speak to that ass ever again. I'm just glad he's behind bars."

"I just thought we could use your insight."

"Just because I hired him a few times does not mean I have 'insight', Val. Harker's extremely predictable anyway - show him some money and he'll dance for you."

"...if you really think so, that's fine. Get some rest."

Jonas quietly closed the door, and Gawain heard the _click_ of a bolt being pushed into place.

She ran back downstairs, twisting the front doorknob as she ran into it and out into the colder night air.

Caradoc's Mercedes was in the driveway, its headlights casting two bright circles on the garage door. The hum of the engine got louder as she opened the passenger door and climbed in beside Caradoc.

"You're right," she said. "He's hiding something."

"And not doing a very good job at it. Did you get a peek inside his room? It's like a teenage boy's."

"What, rock band posters?"

"No, it's messy and everything is everywhere."

"No, he only opened the door a crack. And Dirk, even we're kids inside. You wanted to go to an arcade last week."

"I was drunk."

"We're all kids inside." She smiled. "Let's go."

* * *

Garth was waiting by his dark grey van in the underground parking lot when the elevator opened and Tahal stepped out. He had a thin white cigarette in his fingers, and he removed it from his mouth, blowing smoke.

Tahal frowned. "Put it away; it's not good for you."

"I know that." He took another draw.

"Then put it away. you'll kill yourself faster than Kingsman can." Tahal looked over at the car. "The body in there?"

"You know it." Garth tossed the cigarette away onto the grey concrete floor, and threw the back doors open.

Tahal pressed the heel of his expensive designer shoe down on the lit end of the match, and crushed it to the ground.

Garth removed a heavy body bag from inside the van, and set it on the hard ground. "He was floating for hours before we found him, so it might be a little disturbing. The smell isn't much better."

"I'm okay. Open it up."

He pulled the zip down to chest height, and spread the bag open.

Tahal felt his gag reflex automatically engage as the smell hit him, a vile mixture of preservatives and rotting flesh. He covered his mouth with one hand, taking a step back.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Tahal shook his head, and stepped back up, looking down at Marcel's mangled body. As Garth had warned him, the skin on Marcel's face was more...fluid than usual, some parts beginning to slough off his skull. A purple bruise stretched across his neck, which was twisted at an awkward angle.

"Not so pretty, isn't he?" Garth slipped on a pair of latex gloves and handed an identical set to Tahal.

He pulled them on, holding his breath when his hands were away from his face. "Turn him over."

"What, the whole body?"

"Just the head. Check if his chip's still in there."

Garth put his gloved hands around Marcel's lifeless head and turned it over. The scar was larger than Tahal remembered.

"They must have removed it when he was in prison," Garth said, leaning in to inspect. "It's been cut open and stitched back together."

"So we've no audio feed?"

"None at all, unless we get that chip. Should I do that?"

"Go get it. I want to know who did this, ASAP. I'll book you a ticket back to France."

"And I was really liking being back in Amsterdam."

"Do as you're told, Garth. Get me that chip and we'll talk about your reputation again."

Garh rolled his eyes, and zipped the body bag back up. "What're you gonna do about him? Scatter?"

"My men will take care of it," Tahal said, glancing at the armed men waiting by the elevator and waving them over. "You do your job and i'll do mine."

Garth tore off his latex gloves and tossed them onto the floor. "Goodnight, Tahal."

"As to you, Mr. Hendricksen."

* * *

Gawain stepped out of the car and looked up at the six towers of the Bijlmerbajes, surrounded by their tall wire mesh fences and silhouettes of heavily armed security. "Which one is he in?"

"Demersluis," Caradoc said, pointing at one of the towers. "He used to be in Het Schouw, but he tried to start a revolution and they relocated him. That was six months ago."

"Once a jackass, always a jackass." Gawain strode up to the dimly-lit guardhouse, where a bespectacled guard was writing on a notepad.

"Closing hours are long over, miss," he said without looking at her.

She removed her ID holder form inside her jacket and flipped it open in front of him. "KLPD. We need to see a prisoner."

He whipped off his glasses, and peered at the ID, before nodding. "Go right through, ma'm. Show that to the front desk."

"Thank you." Gawain pocketed the ID, as the gate rattled open. Beyond it, in the darkness, was the main reception building. She began taking steps towards it, whistling as the breeze brushed through her hair.

The guard at the double doors opened one for her, and she walked straight through into the lobby with its red floor and bright lights.

A woman was on the phone behind the reception desk, talking quietly and occasionally giggling.

Caradoc entered seconds after she did, going straight to the woman and holding his ID in front of her.

She said something low and quick into the phone before putting it back in the cradle. "Ah, what can I do for you, agent...Beumers?"

"I'd like to see a prisoner of yours."

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over."

"This prisoner might have crucial information regarding a terrorist attack that's going to happen very soon, ma'am. I suggest you cooperate."

She looked unsure. "...very well then, agent Beumers. Who are you seeing?"

"Desmond Harker. Last I heard he's in Demersluis."

"Give me a moment." The woman tapped the keys on her mechanical keyboard, each stroke making a distinct sound. "Ah, I'm afraid Mr. Harker is no longer here."

Gawain blinked. "What?"

"He left four months ago."

"How did he leave? He's still on trial."

"Let's see...the prosecutor dropped all charges, ma'am. It was due to a lack of evidence."

Gawain shook her head. "Did he leave alone, or did anyone come to pick him up?"

"I was in the bathroom then, I think. I'm sorry the two of you had to come all the way here for nothing."

Caradoc nodded. "It's fine. Can you...can you show us security tapes on that day? If you have them."

She tapped at a few more keys and raised an eyebrow. "You're in luck! We still have the tape. Do you mind coming behind the counter?"

They rounded the end of the metal counter and stood on either side of the receptionist. The screen on her computer was displaying a black-and-white footage of the lobby they were in, with Harker standing near the edge.

"He's talking to someone," Gawain muttered. "Skip to when they leave."

The receptionist tapped an arrow key a few times, causing the video to jump several seconds, to where Harker was turning around.

A suited man with what appeared to be a flower on his left lapel followed him, hands clasped behind his back.

Gawain hit a button on the keyboard to pause the video. "Who's he? Harker's lawyer?"

"Dunno," the receptionist said.

"You," Caradoc said.

"What?"

"Val, he's here."

Gawain looked up at the doors she had come through to find a man wearing a cream-coloured suit with a poppy flower pinned to his pocket. He had stiff, gelled brown hair and a wide grin on his face.

"Are you looking for Mr. Harker?" he asked.

Gawain said nothing.

"I'm Jim Sarcos, nice to meet you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Saladin poked his head into Maleagant's cell. "Excuse me, are you the prisoner?"

She yawned and sat up on the mattress. "Next one. I'm just being quarantined because I shot Jon- Tristan."

Jonas stepped into the room. "Not anymore. Saladin's team looks like they wiped each other out, so you're fine."

She stood up, glancing back at the mattress and blanket. "Saladin, can you leave? We need to talk in private."

He nodded and disappeared out the doorway.

"I haven't told them yet," Jonas said. "You've no idea how much I want to. This is going to bite us back."

"You already said that. You also said I had one week."

Jonas said nothing.

Maleagant walked past him out the door of her cell, and towards the stairs, which had already been activated. "You still have all the notes?"

"In my drawer," Jonas said, climbing the steps behind her. "Why? You think there's some sort of secret code?"

"No, but it might tell us how that one got in my room." She exited the garage through a door connecting it to the main house, and turned right, going up the carpeted stairs.

The door across from Jonas' room was Maleagant's, and it was the largest room in the house. Gawain had said she deserved it after what had happened a year prior, but she begged to differ. She'd hardly done a thing, having stayed back in the Paris HQ while Caradoc and Gawain boarded a cargo ship and stopped Fischer.

She swung the room door inwards, to a green carpeted floor, double bed and a heavy oak dresser stashed in one corner. A flat-screen television was set on the wall where the end of the bed was pointing, and next to it, a study desk with Maleagant's own laptop charging on it.

"I forgot how spacey this is," Jonas said, walking over to the wardrobe. "And this wasn't here before."

"Mum sent it over while you were in Germany." Maleagant reached under her desk, and carefully tore the piece of tape secured to it off, retrieving the key she had stuck there. She inserted it into the lock in one of the drawers, and twisted. With a click, it unlatched, and she pulled it out.

An single piece of paper was nestled inside, slight crinkled and dog-eared. She picked it up and smoothed out the creases on the desk.

 _I really hope you haven't told anyone about that note, Holly. I'll know if you do._

"The question is," Jonas said over her shoulder, "how did he get it in your room while not appearing on any of the cameras?"

"We didn't see Saladin until we walked up the stairs either," Maleagant said.

"Oberon wasn't looking at the screen."

"Yeah, but that didn't trip off the alarm. Let's just ask him anyway, so we have an excuse to look at the footage on this day." She waved the note in his face.

"Let's get the rest first." Jonas strode out of her room and across the hallway, twisting the knob on his own door.

Jonas' abode was, in contrast to Maleagant's, chaotic and unorganised. His bed wasn't made, there were books on the floor and a pile of clothes laid next to the door. The rubbish bin next to his desk hadn't been emptied out either, and the faintest trace of a musky smell was emanating from it.

"And I forgot how messy yours was," Maleagant said. "If Caradoc sees this, he's going to ground you."

"He's not my dad."

"But he can still order you to stay in the room." She pulled open his desk drawer, only for it to contain a photograph album.

He pushed the drawer back in. "That's private property. I'm not as forgetful as you." Jonas got into a crouch, and then laid prone against the floor, his right arm reaching into the small gap between his bedframe and the floor. The hand came back out with a brown paper envelope, tied with a thin white string.

She plucked it out of his hand and unwrapped the string, and turned the flap open. Inside the envelope were assorted pieces of paper, all of which were identical size in to each other and the note Maleagant had. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Two in the morning. Never thought I'd have so much energy this late."

"All thanks to your training."

"Oh yeah, about training...you lied about the dog and shooting it."

"No I didn't," Maleagant said, flicking through each of the notes inside the envelope. "They changed it."

"Well, that explains a lot."

"I designed some of the new ones too. Like the deserted island one."

"What the fuck was that? You know, a week in, two of the recruits decided they weren't going to be rescued and wanted to 'repopulate the island'."

"Shhh." She pulled one of the notes out. "This was the first one."

"How's that going to help us? Actually, let me rephrase that: how's any of them going to help us?"

"I don't know."

"So you got me to take these out from under my bed for no reason?"

She put the notes back in the envelope. "Let's go see that security tape. We might see something."

"You're so indecisive," Jonas said, shaking his head.

Maleagant quickly made her way down both sets of stairs, to find Oberon asleep in front of his multiple monitors. She shook his shoulders, and his eyes opened slowly, focusing on her.

"I thought you took anti-sleep drugs?"

Oberon adjusted the glasses that were half-slipping off his face and sat up straight in the swivel chair. He stretched and yawned. "They don't work. Get a new brand next time, Jonas."

"How did Saladin get in without us knowing?" Jonas asked.

"That was my fault," Oberon said. "I wasn't looking at the camera feeds."

"Don't we have alarms?"

"Not in that tiny garage window in the back. Poor guy hardly squeezed through. Why the sudden interest?"

Maleagant glanced at Jonas. "Just thought we could help you. Figure out camera blind spots and entrances we might not be aware of."

"I did that a year ago, when we first set up here."

"Uh…" She drifted off.

"Look, I don't know what you want with my tapes, but I'll give you access. I'm guessing it's something private?"

"...yeah. Sort of. Thanks, Oberon."

"Just don't tell Val about this. She's so...so bitchy, sometimes. So yeah, better keep this away from him."

"What, she only wants you to use it for work?"

"Pretty much. I'll give you an hour, and then I'll block your access. Do what you want, I won't look."

"Thanks a bunch," Jonas said. "We'll get you a present or something.

"No, Jonas. I don't accept bribes."

"It's not a bribe."

"Correct. It's a gift completely unrelated to this event. How about...how about one of those fancy ergonomic chairs?"

* * *

Tahal took his seat in one of the leather-covered chairs around the circular table. The rest of the seats had been filled, with a few exceptions: Garth's chair, Diana's chair and the Texan's chair. The latter was due to the Texan himself, who was standing in front of the screen.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I must apologise for calling you up at such an ungodly hour."

The seated men and women muttered their no worries and no problems, but Tahal kept his lips sealed.

"A few of you might remember our friend Mr. Fontaine."

A murmur rippled around the table.

"A few hours ago, Marcel Fontaine was found dead, floating in the Seine." He aimed the small black remote at the screen and pressed a button, bringing a heavily censored image of Marcel's body up on the screen.

Even though majority of the gore had been cut out, Tahal could see that most of the Council members were dry heaving.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tahal has cleaned it all up. And speaking of Mr. Tahal, would you like to come up?"

"I'm fine."

The Chinese minister turned to him. "Actually, Mr. Tahal, we would like to hear how you...'Phase Three' is going."

Cursing under his breath, Tahal stood up as the Texan took his seat. He strode over to in front of the screen. "Before I report on Phase Three, I'd like to clear up a few things about Mr. Fontaine's passing." He pointed at the dark band around his neck; one of the areas not censored. "Marcel was killed by hanging. Very likely, from a helicopter."

"Kingsman?" the Briton asked.

"Unlikely. They would have done it a year ago. This is something new. Something we haven't accounted for."

"And how will this affect Phase Three?"

"It won't at all. The final step is already in place. This time, we'll eliminate Kingsman for good, and sir, your plan can continue." He nodded at the Texan.

The African man glanced at the empty seat beside him. "And Miss Vex? Any progress on that?"

"Mr. Hendricksen is working on that. So far, we've tracked her to Amsterdam, but the trail ends there. Most likely, she's hiding out with Kingsman."

"Are we in danger?" the Texan asked, frowning.

"Not that I know. If she spilled, I'd be the top of that list and I wouldn't be here right now. I'd say we're safe."

"Let's hope you're right, Tahal," the Briton said.

"I usually am. Now, as for Phase Three…"

* * *

Maleagant slumped on the desk in front of her computer, groaning. The words "Access Denied" were flashing on the screen. "Time's up, and we didn't get shit."

"Hey, it's okay." Jonas was lying on her bed. "He can't have come through the front door, can he? Why don't we go check that window Oberon mentioned?"

"Yeah…"

"Come on, Holly. This is two hours. I'm giving you a week. We've plenty of time."

"And maybe in that week, he doesn't leave anything else for us and we're out of leads. And then you tell them and now whoever it is is going to change tactics."

"Let's go. Before Dirk and Val come back."

Maleagant slowly stood up, her eyes half-closed. "I just wanna sleep right now."

"No time, Holly. _Carpe Diem_ You know what that means?"

"Seize the day. Something I really am not in the mood for right now." An look of confusion came over her face. "Wait, when did you learn to speak Latin?"

"I've always known Latin." He opened the door. "Come on! No time to waste."

Maleagant sighed, and shuffled through the doorway, out into the corridor. "We're not going to find anything. It's been a week."

"Hey, you were the one who refused to ask Oberon then. I'm helping you, okay?"

"I...I guess?"

"Good."

They quietly descended the stairs, and exited the dark house through the front door. A town car soundlessly rumbled past them, its yellow headlights staining the bleak grey asphalt road.

Jonas rounded the corner of the house, Maleagant following behind. She kicked at the weeds that were growing in their yard.

The window Oberon mentioned was tiny. It was a little more than a sheet of glass to let light in, with a simple latch holding it in place.

"Locked from the inside," Jonas said.

"Told you this was a waste of time."

"So how did Saladin get in?"

"I'm too tired to care!" she moaned.

"You'll wake the neighbors." He put a hand to the glass, and pushed.

The entire panel swung inwards, although the latch was had locked it in place. Maleagant stared at it. "That's not supposed to happen."

"Okay, so if this is how Saladin and our guy got in, how long has he been doing this?"

Maleagant jumped when her watch made a sharp sound, and she took a deep breath, accepting the call that was coming through.

"I need you guys back down here right now," Oberon said. "I don't know what happened, but for some reason I can't contact Dirk and Val. Oh…"

"What?"

"And now their distress signals just turned on."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Where's Harker?" Caradoc asked.

"Right now?" Sarcos smiled. "He's at my company headquarters in London. Why, you wanna talk to him?"

"Yes," Gawain said. "As soon as possible please."

"He's a bit busy."

"He should be in prison," Caradoc said. "Did you bribe the judge?"

Sarcos shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that he dropped all charges and now Mr. Harker works for me."

"What's the address?" Gawain asked.

"It's the big-ass angular building in the middle of the city with SMAW down the side. Doesn't any simpler than."

Caradoc's hand went to his spectacles. "Oberon, Harker's been moved."

There was no reply.

"Oberon?"

"Oh yeah," Sarcos said. "I...I jammed your comms the moment you stepped in here. No, I'm unarmed."

Caradoc kept his hand on the pistol inside his jacket.

"But they are."

The sound of footsteps echoed down the twin hallways leading out of the reception area, and several armed men in unmarked black gear spilled into the room. Each of them carried an M416, and each of their helmets had a camera mounted on the side.

Caradoc drew his pistol and pointed it into the crowd. "You really don't want to do this."

"Oh, but I do," Sarcos said. "Your suits don't protect against rifle-caliber rounds, and your umbrellas are in the car."

"You Cabal?"

He made a face. "I don't like the Cabal. All pussies trying to solve a problem that has no solutions."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Jim Sarcos. Oh yes, don't bother with the smoke shoes. My guys have infrared. Please, we can settle this peacefully."

"I don't see peace right now," Gawain said.

"Not yet."

Caradoc felt a small prick on his neck, and his hand that went up to it brushed against the cigar-like shape of a dart.

"Nighty-night!"

The world went black.

* * *

Caradoc woke up in a comfortable leather chair, and found that his jacket was lighter, and his shoes were missing. The chair he was nestled in was situated in front of a polished black desk, with an empty red chair behind it. A large, ornate globe was in one corner of the table.

Gawain was just coming to in the chair beside his. Her shoes were missing as well. "Where are we?"

Caradoc looked around, sweeping his eyes across the large window that went around the entire floor of the building. Wheelock Place was visible just off to the right, exactly as he had seen it in pictures. "I think we're at SMAW."

"That's just great."

"I agree," Sarcos said as the elevator doors behind them opened and he strode out, straightening his cream suit. "Welcome to my office."

Caradoc put one sock-covered foot on the chair he was on, and launched himself into the air. He slammed into Sarcos' chest with his right knee, knocking him to the ground. "What's the elevator code?"

"Come on, Mr. Beumers, we can t-"

His fist smashed into Sarcos' jaw, snapping his head to the side. "Elevator passcode, now!"

"Four-five-five-seven. But you won't get far."

Caradoc stood up, pulling back his leg and sending it crashing into the side of Sarcos' head. His eyes closed and he went still. He took steps over to the elevator, and reached out to input the code into the keypad on the wall.

The elevator doors opened themselves and before Caradoc knew it, the electrodes of a taser was jammed into his throat. The muscles in his body went stiff, and he fell over.

A shout from Gawain told him the same had been done to her by the men coming out of the elevator.

Sarcos stood over him, rubbing his jaw. "If you don't play nice then neither will I. I just wanted to ask you some questions." He nodded to the security men who had shocked them. "Tie them up."

Caradoc was shoved savagely over, and a pair of plasticuffs placed around his wrists, locking them together ever so tightly.

"Now, Mr. Beumers, tell me about Kingsman."

Caradoc used the strength returning to his mouth to spit at Sarcos, but the globule of saliva simply sailed past his face.

"Is it really worth dying for?"

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth.

Sarcos sighed and moved away from him. "I thought that would be the case. So I had my people do some digging." He went behind his desk and pulled open a drawer, removing the distinct profile of a Desert Eagle from within it.

"What are you gonna do, shoot me with that?"

"Not you." Ge pulled the slide back, and lifted the barrel level to Gawain's head. "Let's try again: tell me about Kingsman."

Caradoc's breath caught in his throat.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Don't you fucking touch her."

"So Michael was right. You know, he was always counting on the two of you getting back together."

"That snake worked for you?"

"Not me, exactly. We...we work for the same person, you could say. But we've very, very different objectives."

"Is that why you didn't save him?" Caradoc's eyes flicked between the gun to Gawain's temple, to Sarcos' face.

"He didn't need saving. What, you think a guy like Michael wouldn't survive something that trivial?"

"I didn't know him."

"That's right. You didn't know him at all." He looked at Gawain. "Now, enough of that. Tell me about Kingsman or I'll blow Miss Izaks' brains all over the floor. And then I'll make you eat them."

"Don't do it," Gawain said. "If I die, then he gets nothing. If you tell him, she's going to shoot me anyway."

"I'll do it," Caradoc said. "On one condition."

"Like this one?" He pointed at the Desert Eagle.

"I want to talk to Harker."

Sarcos pulled the gun away from Gawain's temple. "That, I can do." He pressed a button on his desk. "Bryon, send Mr. Harker up here, please."

"Yes sir," the voice on the other end said.

After a few excruciating minutes, the elevator doors swept open once more, and Desmond Harker, now wearing a dark blue business suit, stepped out. "Yes sir-" He froze when he saw Caradoc and Gawain.

"Des, Mr. Beumers wants to talk to you."

"I-" He blinked. "I wasn't aware that you had them in your custody, sir."

"Harker," Caradoc said. "You read international news lately?"

"Er...no?"

"Marcel's dead. Most likely because of his connection to the Cabal. They might be coming after you next."

"Mr. Harker will be protected," Sarcos said. "No assassin can get through the security here."

"Who's Marcel?" Harker asked.

"He's an associate of Garth Hendricksen, who's the guy that bought out all your mercenaries."

"And?"

"They're going to kill you, Desmond," Gawain said. "Don't trust Sarcos. If they can go up against us, they can go up against SMAW."

"Boring!" Sarcos exclaimed. "Are you done? I wanna know about Kingsman."

"Wait," Caradoc said. "What do you do here?"

"Logistics. Sometimes our products need to be moved quickly around the country or around the world, and I manage all of that."

"Oh, yes," Sarcos said. "We're an arms company. Not one of the biggest yet, but we're growing every day. You might have seen some of our products on the market."

"Can I leave?" Harker said. "Gotta deal with Australian tariffs."

"You may," Sarcos said. "Now, Mr. Beumers, it's your turn. What's Kingsman and why do they oppose the Cabal?"

"We don't oppose the Cabal; they oppose us."

"You didn't answer the first part of the question."

 _Ding_.

Harker was thrown across room as the elevator doors opened and an umbrella entered the edge of Caradoc's vision. Sarcos whipped his pistol towards the door, and-

He was smashed against his desk as a rubber projectile hit him in the middle of the head, knocking him out cold.

Galahad fired two more times, stunning each of the security personnel in the room. Once they were all unconscious, he crouched behind Gawain.

Caradoc felt his own zipcuffs sliced open, and he massaged his wrists. "Thanks."

"The hell happened?" Lancelot asked, drawing her pistol and heading over to Sarcos. "How'd you get here?"

"He tranqued us," Gawain said. "We didn't stand a chance."

"His security sucks," Galahad said. "How the hell did he get the jump on you?"

"He was waiting for us," Caradoc said. "Let's go down."

"Not a choice, I'm afraid." Lancelot tapped the LCD screen above the call button. "Someone's coming up."

"Maybe not to this floor."

"This elevator only goes three floors: lobby, this floor and the penthouse. So they're probably coming here."

"We sort of shot up the lobby," Galahad added.

"So how are we gonna get down?" Gawain asked.

"That's why I brought this." Galahad picked up a long black metal tube lying in front of the closed elevator doors. "Carbon fibre wire. We'll rappel down the side."

"What if they cut the rope?"

"It's carbon fibre. They're gonna need a power saw" He raised an eyebrow at Lancelot. "Shall we?"

"Gimme." She had out a hand.

Galahad tossed the tube to her, and she opened the lid to reveal a thin, coiled-up wire with claws at both ends. She threw one end at Caradoc. "Try that wall."

Caradoc stared at the wire. "I really hope you're right." He pried each of the claws apart, before holding it against the wall.

The metal claws dug into the wall, holding it in place. "This still doesn't look safe."

Gawain ripped off each guard's jacket and tossed one to each of them. "We don't do safe, Dirk."

"Ready?" Galahad asked.

"Don't be silly, Eggsy," Lancelot said. "Of course they're ready." She grabbed the globe from Sarcos' table and wrapped the other end of the claw around it. With a flourish, she tossed it through the window.

"Allons-y!" Galahad exclaimed, gripping the wipre with both hands through the jacket he had and leaping off the side of the building.

Caradoc stared at the edge where he used to be. "Roxy, you next?"

"Why don't _you_ go next?" Lancelot said.

"It doesn't look safe."

"Our job is anything but that. Off you go."

Caradoc took a deep breath, and wrapped the jacket around the wire, gripping it through the soft material. "Aw, fuck," he said, and ran off the side.

The wind assaulted his face from below as fell a short distance, and then the friction slowed him down. He planted both feet on the glass windows on the side of the building, halting his descent. Caradoc took a step backwards, and he fell an according distance.

"Not so bad, eh?" came Lancelot's voice through the glasses. "Just keep moving; Valerie's going next."

He continued walking backwards down the building as Valerie jumped, taking a standing position far higher than where he had done.

Lancelot came down last, pointing her TT-30 at the ledge. The head of a guard popped out, and her gun went off once.

The guard fell over, past her, Gawain, and then Caradoc, trailing blood from the neat bullethole in his head.

"Dirk!" Galahad called over the intercom. "Your shoes are different, right?"

"Yeah?" He looked down at Galahad. "Why?"

"Use them now! We got company!"

True to his words, guards were backing out of the building's lobby and onto the square outside, looking up.

Caradoc clicked his heels together.

A small sphere dropped out of the bottom of his left shot, and fell to the ground beneath them. A smoke cloud blossomed out of it, obscuring the guards.

"Slide now!" Galahad commanded, and pushed with both feet off the windows, sliding down towards the smoke.

Sighing, Caradoc did the same.


End file.
